Freckle On The Nose Of Sheer Perfection
by xXLookAPandaXx
Summary: They meet again, in his fifth year, her seventh. She introduces herself as a Hestia Jones. He pretends he never knew this as he tosses her a sly smile, and a shake of a hand.


**Title:** freckle on the nose of sheer perfection  
**Author:** xXLookAPandaXx  
**Use of Prompt:** First lost object.  
**Authors Note:**I kind of leave out what the "object" is until the very end. However, I do repeat the idea of Rabastan having lost it for the first time again and again.

* * *

Rabastan Lestrange was an odd human being. He was quite the opposite as his brother. [The only thing in common they ever had was the house in which they were sorted, and the blood running through their veins.] Discord and chaos---that sort of thing belonged to the likes of his brother, Rodolphus. Rabastan was meticulous, and careful. He kept things in order, as they should be.

So it came as a surprise to Rabastan that he was capable of losing anything. [It really was stupid, losing this sort of..._thing_.]

He would wake up each morning and make up his four poster bed out of habit. Rabastan had always kept up a daily rutine. Wake up, make bed, shower, comb hair to the side, brush teeth in a left to right formation. This wasn't the only pattern the younger Lestrange attended to in the morning. He even had to dress in a certain fashion. He liked to wear a white collared shirt with a grey vest over---and then he matched his Slytherin tie and prefect badge with the whole ensemble. He wore the same exact thing each and every morning. "Dress to impress" he would quote over and over if asked why.

It was remarkable how such an orderly boy could lose anything at all. [Especially---this sort of _thing_.]

He'd sit and watch his brother with envy sometimes. [Because really, it was unfair that his brother had to have been the popular sibling.] He'd do nothing but sit and scowl in his seat, clearly ignoring Regulus Black. A supposed "mate" of his, only really, who was he kidding? Refasten didn't honestly have any sort of friends. Oh, sure, he had people he casually talked to every now and then---Regulus being one of them. But, he wouldn't leak any secrets to the younger boy. And mates are meant for that sort of thing. Besides, Regulus had a talent of getting on Rabastan's nerves. There were only so many times Rabastan would be willing to hear a miserable life story.

Most lonely people, including the younger Lestrange, would cling onto the few things they held dear. So, it was a shock that he ever let something slip past his fingers and become lost. Especially this sort of _thing_.

He never fancied the Gryffindor lot. Because really, there was some unspoken law against mingling with them when you were a snake. Even he knew that, and it was only his third year at Hogwarts. Though, he never **despised** them as some did. He could be like that moody greasy haired upperclassman---_Severus Snape_ or Secculus Scape, whatever the boy's name was, and could fall for one of them. He could be a lap dog for one lucky lion. Only, that would give every other housemate of his the right to mock him. But, he had recently found himself fascinated with their table at lunch. He'd finally found something far more intriguing than his sibling. Oh, but his attention only fell on one Gryffindor far different then the trouble making lot that referred to themselves as the _Marauders_. And what a stupid name it was.

Watching her at that rival table made the younger Lestrange feel something different. And she'd would later become the reason Rabastan lost anything in the first place. [As ridiculous as losing this sort of _thing_ was.]

They meet again, in his fifth year, her seventh. She introduces herself as a Hestia Jones. He pretends he never knew this as he tosses her a sly smile, and a shake of a hand. They're on the train in their own compartment with nobody to barge in on them. They have their own privacy---for the short ride and that's all Rabastan could ask for. She's far different, he thinks. She isn't dazzled by the lazy charm he exudes, and isn't intimidated by the snake pendant pinned onto his robes. Instead, she lectures him. [And it's a surprise that he listens so closely to what she says.] She speaks slowly, emphasizing her words with exaggerated gestures and lit up expressions. She could almost make Rabastan feel guilty for the life he's doomed to lead, as he nods away each word that spills from her lips. She's perfection. And Rabastan couldn't help but think that risking his reputation would be just fine. So he starts to see her often.

It's when she doesn't meet him one night at their regular spot by the Quiditch Pitch that he realises he lost something important.

He avoids her from then on, though, it isn't particularly easy. [It's rather difficult, really.] He spots her often in the halls, but she acts like he isn't there. And the most contact they've made were a bump of shoulders matched with heavy disapproving scowls. Hestia might have argued that it had all been his fault, the way they lost touch. Perhaps, he ignored her owls, but he'd stand his ground. Nothing was ever Rabastan Lestrange's fault. She'd have to learn that. They don't talk, _ever_. Their eyes do meet from time to time from across their dinner tables. [He tells himself not to stare for too long...because he doesn't want her back.]

It's the day before she departs on a whole new life when they finally talk for the first and last time. She's about to graduate, and he should be happy---he wouldn't have to see her anymore. But, instead he's miserable and masks it behind an amused looking face. She reaches out, and he doesn't move. A hand quickly glides up and down his left arm before pulling away. The words that come attached to the feel of her hands should be something of comfort---but she speaks with pain and hurt. So, he looks at her for a moment before pulling away. They've chosen separate paths, and in years to come they'd be on opposite sides of the battlefield. Perhaps, they'd be at the mercy of each others wands. He watches her lip quiver in response for just a moment before pulling herself together. [She always was the strong sort, that Hestia Jones.]

"Go on your way, Jones. It's been a blast." His words are sharp and cold, as he barely gives her a smile. [It was more of a smirk with sarcasm dripping from it.]

She leaves him be with a turn of her heels. It's then that he focuses his attention on her as she walks right into the arms of Sirius Black. As he watches that flee ridden hound look over at him with a toothy grin it occurs to him. Rabastan Lestrange had just lost something utterly dear to himself.

He had just lost his heart, for the first time.


End file.
